


Sweet Summer Nights

by Spiritheart



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritheart/pseuds/Spiritheart
Summary: Damen is working the cotton candy stand at the carnival and can’t keep his eyes off the sexy drifter running the ride right across from him. Cotton candy is fluffy and these two get very sweet and sticky with each other.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83
Collections: Lamen Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

It was hot, so damned hot. The acrid smell of broiling asphalt, roasting popcorn and cheap cologne hung in the humid air. The carnival lights had come on at dusk making the tired rides and concessions look less trashy and more flashy. Damen’s day of swirling cotton candy on paper cones and handing them to giggling pubescent girls wearing too much make up and weary young couples placating overtired toddlers was almost over. This was the next to last night of the carnival. In a week he’d be back to college, a few hundred bucks more to the good from this last of the summer gig.

The boredom was the worst but relieved by the sight, dead ahead, of the insanely hot guy running the most nauseatingly rough ride on the grounds. Leanly muscled and tattooed arms shifted the gears as he put the ride and the riders through the paces. He flirted with every single person that came through the gates, all cool blue eyes, sly smiling mouth and lounging grace. Everything about him screamed bad boy and danger. Not the kind of put on tough guy bullshit everywhere at the carnival, but a world weary and lived in sort. 

Damen had asked about him. He was a drifter, who had come in with a back pack and a golden eyed dog he called Boy. He’d set up a tent in the field adjacent to the fairgrounds and kept to himself. 

The thing was, Damen looked at him but he never looked back. Damen was used to everyone looking back. He was six foot five, dark skinned, built as fuck and with a pretty face. He wasn’t used to being ignored. 

In any case, the carnival was closing down tomorrow. He’d be leaving his small town and he couldn’t wait to get back to the city. He was studying political science and journalism. His ambition was to investigate all the corrupt shit in this country and help bring down the patriarchy . 

It was near closing time when the cotton candy machine jammed. He shut down early and found the sheet of troubleshooting options the old guy who hired him had tossed his way. It was illegible. An old, greasy instruction manual came out from under the counter along with a battered toolbox. He wasn’t really that handy but he could follow a set of directions. Probably.

He read over the specs. It was likely a problem with the spinner bowl mechanism. He dug around in the tool box for the right size wrench, tried a few and realized he needed a screw driver. He got the spinner bowl off and now what? Underneath, there was a box with a bunch of wires and he had no idea what they did. 

“Having a problem?” A voice as smooth as buttered popcorn interrupted his concentration. It was hot guy, leaning over the counter, the carnival lights flashing in his eyes and shifting his face from deeply shadowed to boldly lit. Either version was fucking gorgeous. If he’d looked good from a distance, up close he was devastating. 

When he gawked instead of answering, hot guy took the manual from his hand, frowned at it and tossed it aside. Squinting at the mess Damen had made of the machine he quickly gauged the situation and said, “Clogged huh? It happens. This model is a piece of shit.”

“Experienced with cotton candy machines?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working carnivals since I was fifteen. You don’t get to spin the big boy rides without putting in your time in concessions.” 

He wasn’t what Damen expected. He’d expected a cocky asshole, but he seemed nice. 

“Want me to take a look?”

“Yeah, definitely. Thanks. I don’t know a wrench from a screw driver.”

At this admission he received that slight sly smile he’s been admiring for days. “Yeah, well I know my way around tools, so you want me to come back there?”

Damen squelched the automatic saucy comeback that came to his mind and opened the side door to the trailer and said, “I’m Damen.”

“My name is Laurent,” he said as he took the step up and into the cramped quarters. Fancy name. As he brushed by, Damen admired the way his black tank set off his tanned, broad shoulders and appreciated how his jeans slid low on his lean hips. When he stepped over to the counter Damen got a close up view of strong cheekbones and the soft poof of his mouth. Up close, he was surprisingly young. 

Damen leaned back and watched him work. He had nice hands, strong and capable. Damen grabbed a couple of cold beers from the cooler and said, “You want one?”

“Yeah, in a minute. I think I got this.” 

Laurent finished up, took the beer and said, “We’ll test it before I push off, but first I really need this.”

Damen, opened the door and said, “Let’s get some cooler air. I’ve been cooped up in this tin box all day.” He grabbed two of the folding chairs he kept outside for breaks and handed one to Laurent. Settling into his chair, he notices the fairgrounds had shut down. He said, “Hey thanks for the help. You’ve had a long day too.”

“Yeah. I need to get my dog back and get him walked. He’s been staying in the livestock barns with a nice farmer and his goats. Baby goats are the best, am I right?” 

This guy kept surprising him. Baby goats. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

“I could see some baby goats,” he invited himself.

“Yeah? Okay, we’ll go get Boy and see the baby goats before we test drive that fine machine.”

“Sounds good.” 

They finished off their beers and walked in the direction of the barns. The grounds were littered with trash and with the carnival lights shut down it was a minefield. When Damen stepped in something sticky and gross he yelped, “Shit!” Laurent said, “Probably,” and they shared a laugh.

After days of lusting after this guy, imagining him in all sorts of dirty daydreams, Damen felt a little ashamed of himself. He was a human being to him now and they were going to see baby goats together. Another snort of laughter, at his own expense, escaped him.

“What?” Laurent asked. 

“You’re just different than I imagined.”

“So, you imagined?"

Fuck, he was glad it was dark because he was pretty sure he needed to hide how much he wanted that comment back. Then he figured, what the hell.

“I kind of developed a thing for you over the last few days.”

“Yeah. I saw you looking.”

“You did? I didn’t see you looking back.”

“I did.” A glance that made no secret of Laurent’s returned interest came his way. “I am.”

That had him feeling hopeful. 

They were at the barns. As they entered, the scent of hay and livestock mingled in a surprisingly pleasant way. There was a sharp bark ahead. “Hey Boy,” Laurent called out. They walked down the dimly lit aisle, past munching cows and snoring pigs. They reached a stall where a very bouncy and excited dog could be seen leaping up. Laurent opened the gate and was overtaken by a wriggling mass of fur. “He’s missed me a little bit,” he deadpanned. “This is Boy.” 

Boy made Damen’s acquaintance, wagging his tail and jumping up to lick him. He was a beautiful cattle dog with mottled gray and brown fur. “That’s one cool dog.”

“You like dogs?”

Damen did like dogs but his parents had never let him have one. His dad was allergic. “I love dogs.” They sat on the hay bales lining the aisle and settled into petting Boy. 

“So, what’s your story?” Damen ventured. How had this guy ended up basically homeless?

“My story. Yeah. I don’t have a sad story if that’s what you’re thinking. I took a gap year after high school and it turned into three. I’m not ready for a regular life. I like the road. Carnival work is easy to slide into. I’ve done a lot of things. Worked on a weed farm. Did a season fishing the deep waters on a rig out of Juneau. I was even an au pair for a winter. What’s your story?” 

“Regular. Going back to college next week. I want to be an investigative journalist.”

“That’s solid. There’s a lot of shit that needs to be exposed.” 

They took off into an intense discussion of everything that was fucked up in the world. Laurent was fine with anarchy and Damen believed in a less extreme revolution, but they both were passionate about everything from climate justice to police reform. For a while Damen forgot how much he was attracted to Laurent and got into his mind, taking in new angles on topics he thought he had down cold. 

Laurent stood up and stretched, revealing a glimpse of what looked like some nice tight abs. “You want to see the baby goats? Boy can get some exercise with them.”

Yes he did. 

Laurent went further down the long barn aisle and opened up another stall. Three of the most adorable little creatures he’d ever seen gamboled out. It was just like one of those videos everybody loved. They hopped, they frisked sideways, they shook their little bodies with joy and Boy tried to herd them, bless his heart. 

Damen was so entranced, he was surprised when he looked up and saw Laurent watching him, with an expression he could only name as lonely. It hit him in the chest and he wondered about the downside of Laurent’s life. Never having someone or someplace. He walked over to him slowly, letting him see he was coming, signaling he’d back off if Laurent wanted. 

Laurent took a shaky breath but held his gaze. When Damen got to him, he rested his arm along the rough wood of the stall behind Laurent, close enough that if he wanted he could shift his weight and they’d touch. Laurent looked up, seemed to be considering it, then nestled in under his arm. Damen curved his hand to hold him lightly and gently stroked his bicep. It still held the heat of the sun. Laurent’s long, wavy hair was soft and a little ticklish as it brushed his chest. 

Laurent called out a “Hey” followed by a low whistle. Boy moved into another gear. Now he was seriously herding those crazy little goats. He soon had them back in the pen and was guarding them. He barked to let Laurent know he’d accomplished his job. “Okay, I see you Boy. Good job.”

Laurent moved away to lock the goats in the stall and Damen missed the feel of him. He had been some kind of good and right that closely next to him. 

Laurent put Boy on a leash and said, “Let’s go back and see if I really fixed your cotton candy machine. I could use another beer too.”

That was as close to an invitation to have this night continue as Damen had been waiting for. The trip back to the trailer was quiet but charged, each clearly very aware of the other. 

Laurent gave the machine one last look over and then said, “Load it up with some of the mixture and let’s see how it works.”

Damen went ahead and poured the sugar mixture in and turned on the machine. It started rotating smoothly and the candy began forming in pretty pastel clouds. It built up fast and just as Damen was about to shut it down, it made a grinding noise, jerked, shuddered and the guard popped. Cotton candy flew out in every direction. In his face, on his clothes. 

Laurent reached around and shut it off. As Damen brushed a sticky strand from his eyes, he heard Laurent laughing, a deep easy laugh that had him busting up too. He must look ridiculous but he didn’t care. 

He pulled off his ruined shirt and groused, “Piece of shit machine.” That set them off again, but then Laurent’s face shifted to his lips, and heat simmered in his eyes. Laurent reached over and picked off a strand of cotton candy from Damen’s mouth. Holding his gaze he put it against his own full lips and with a swipe of his tongue, took it in his mouth with a murmured sound of pleasure. 

Damen kissed him then, a kiss that was sweet with the candy still sticking to his mouth and something particularly sweet in Laurent’s response. It was what a first kiss should be, starting with a soft meeting of their mouths, a careful discovery of the shape of each other, finding the angles that fit and ending just as it got perfect. 

They may only have tonight and maybe tomorrow night, but Damen wasn’t wanting to rush it. Yeah, his body was all in for more but this didn’t have a casual hook up feel. 

“You want that beer?”

Laurent said, “That would be good. Did you want to clean up first?”

“Naw.” 

He grabbed the beers and they went back outside. Damen said, “There’s something you can do for me though.”

“Yeah?” It was a cautious response. 

“You got a cell phone? I like our discussions and I might send you an occasional baby goat meme.” His chest was tight as he waited. 

Laurent said softly, “Sure. I’d like that.”

Damen took a swig of his beer and so did Laurent. Maybe later, he’d taste that beer, mixed with cotton candy on Laurent’s tongue, but he wasn’t in a rush. He was getting his number and there was tomorrow night and maybe that week before school started too. 

“You have any plans when the carnival is over?” he asked.

“Nothing in particular. Why?”

“It sounds like you know how to fish. My family has a cabin on the lake and I’m planning on unwinding there for a few days.”

“Is that an invitation?” There was a surprised, slightly hopeful tone in Laurent’s voice, 

“Yup. I’d like to get to know you better.” It mattered to him for Laurent to have a place to stay that wasn’t a lonely tent, even for a few days and the idea of spending the last of summer vacation with him was suddenly relevant. 

“I think I can fit that into my flexible schedule. If Boy is welcome too.”

His Dad would never have to know. He’d clean the cabin really well, after. “Of course.”

A feeling of anticipation of sunny days on the water and campfire nights combined with a sense of rightness. 

“That sounds awesome. I’ll give you some pointers, on fishing.” Laurent sounded very sincere as if he was determined to give something back in return. Why had he ever thought he was such a tough guy? Then in the next moment Laurent added with a rougher tone and that sly, sexy twist of his lips, “And other stuff."

Yeah, Laurent was some kind of trouble he wanted to get into. He matched his smile with one of his own, one known to be fairly irresistible and said, “I’m counting on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen takes Laurent to his family cabin and their sweet burn continues.

It had been a day of increasing temptation for Damen. Hot eye locks, catching Laurent checking him out in his wet, clinging board shorts after their swim. Checking him out in return.

It turned out Laurent was a quiet person, used to his own company and that of Boy. Even on the way out to the lake there hadn’t been much talk. Laurent had rolled down the window and taken in the scenery. Occasionally commented about it. He had a peaceful presence, self-contained and absorbed in the moment. Maybe it came from being a nomad.

Laurent kept things on the edge of anything more than looking. He hadn’t even made any suggestive remarks again. For someone who had so confidently flirted with hordes of strangers at the carnival, he was in this more intimate situation, quite reserved. Damen determined he would wait for Laurent to make the first move.

They’d had some luck fishing and Laurent had in fact had some good tips for him. Damen had never learned how to filet a fish and finding he was squeamish, Laurent simply elbowed him out of the way yesterday and said, “I’ll clean the fish, you clean your kitchen.” Damen did like to cook and the dishes from the huge breakfast he’d made were still all over the counters.

They’d continued their talks about world issues but skirted anything too personal. He had the sense of Laurent testing him, sensing his true intentions. Their discussion of the constraints of one’s culture on being human had been especially intriguing. Laurent had read a book called _Radical Wholeness_ at eighteen and it became his manifesto for breaking his mind free. It moved Damen into seeking the quiet Laurent resided in, questioning everything he thought he knew.

Tonight after dinner, he shooed Laurent out of the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Laurent had taken Boy out for a walk. It being a little cool, he’d thrown on a flannel over his tank and he looked very cozy and huggable. Now he was sorting through the cabin’s record collection. “Your Dad has some nice vinyl.”

“Mom.”

Laurent looked over and nodded, “Your Mom’s collection is nice.” He went back to exploring, in that intent way he had, pulling out records and reading the jackets. One seemed to have captured him. “Shit, this is the first press too.” He was holding Pink Moon.

“My Dad gave it to her for their anniversary, because something about a Volkswagen commercial that turned into their song. You can play it. My Mom always says records are made to be played.”

He loved this place with its kitchen open to the living room flowing right into the screen porch. The chirping of the tree frogs had started. The sun was setting over the lake and it gave everything a hazy pastel gilding. He was feeling extremely chill.

Laurent carefully placed the record on the turntable, and set the needle. Nick Drake’s tender, melancholy song "Place to Be" filled the room. Laurent picked up his wine glass, took a sip and then dangling it from his fingertips, began to sing.

Damen almost dropped the dish he had been drying. The sight of Laurent with eyes closed, leaning back in the overstuffed chair, singing so unselfconsciously, was everything he never knew he needed. The sunset dripping gold over his face, his voice pure and rough at the same time. Then he opened his eyes to meet his as he sang the lyrics,

_And I was strong, strong in the sun_  
_I thought I’d see, when the day was done_  
_Now I’m weaker than the palest blue_  
_Oh, so weak in this need of you_

It seemed like a confession. Even an invitation. The next song came on and all Damen could do is stare across the kitchen island, his breath caught, like the dust motes suspended in the fading sun.

Laurent stopped singing, stood and walked towards him with his loose grace and his eyes a beacon. He took the dish that was still in Damen’s hand and carefully placed it on the counter, his body so close he could feel his warmth. He said, “The rest can wait, right?” He nudged him with his shoulder and suggested, “Get your wine and come over by me. Let’s watch the sunset together.”

Damen remembered to breath.

And they did, Laurent in one overstuffed chair and he in the other. Pink Moon weaving around them. Laurent occasionally singing lead or interesting harmonies. After the album ended, he said into the quiet, “Dude, your voice.”

“Thanks. I play and sing a little but I couldn’t take my guitar on the road.”

“My Mom’s guitar is in her room.” He needed to hear more.

“Yeah? Would she mind?”

Damen said, “No, not at all,” and went to retrieve it. He dropped it on the couch, snapped open the case and took out his Mom’s third best guitar, her vintage Fender acoustic and handed it to him.

Laurent took it carefully and examined it. He looked up and said wonderingly, “Your Mom plays slide?”

“Yeah. She’s, well, really good. Do you?”

“No, I wish. Is there a pick around? Maybe a capo?”

Damen gave him both and then settled in to watching him tune the guitar. His hands were sure and graceful. Until he met Laurent he hadn’t known he had a thing for strong hands and forearms with sleeves rolled up.

When Laurent was satisfied, he looked up and quietly strumming said, “What are you in the mood for?”

Damn, that was a loaded question and he could tell from the gleam in Laurent’s eyes, he was aware.

He said, “You.” He paused, letting it ride. Then added, “Singing anything.”

Laurent adjusted the capo and looking thoughtful, effortlessly went into “Beg, Steal or Borrow.” Damen wondered if it was autobiographical.

It was just a mood after that. Damen fell into it, letting Laurent’s voice softly stroke all along his edges and sink deep into his center. At times, gulping his wine almost desperately. He wasn’t sure if he was being seduced or bewitched.

The last song had to be an original. It was about wanting someone who would never be yours. It ached, became defiant and at the close, so fucking broken. It told him everything he needed to know.

Laurent put the guitar down and taking a long drink of wine, said into the stillness, “The moon is out.”

He hadn’t even noticed it become dark or the bottle of wine becoming emptied, so absorbed in his response to Laurent, his body alight with a diffuse wanting.

“You want to take the canoe out to the raft and listen to the loons?”

Laurent smiled, all easy and almost relieved. He had the sense he had passed another hurdle.

It seemed natural to take Laurent’s hand in his as they walked down the sandy path to the lake. It had the callouses of a guitar player and the strength of someone who knew hard work. It fit just right and electricity flickered up his arm and fired in his chest.

They shoved the canoe off and then it was a magical trip through the glittering moonlit water to the raft far out in the lake.

Making the transfer to the raft, they laid back next to each other and took in the rising moon. He turned and gazed at Laurent’s profile, silvered and shadowed, mysterious and beautiful.

“Go ahead and ask.”

“Okay, tell me about that last song.”

“His name was Beck. He was my first. He dated girls all through high school while he was secretly fucking me. And fucking with my head.”

Damen remembered the chorus,

_“I thought I had enough love to lift your shame,”_  
_”In the end it was more than I could contain_  
_“I had to leave you and carry your blame.”_

“That sounds fucking painful.” It really did. “So you left.”

“I left.”

He wondered if there had been anyone else. Probably any number of them, but nobody that had mattered since. He could tell.

“It’s fair to say, you’re cautious.”

Laurent let out a short laugh. “I wasn’t at first. I went on kind of a sex bender. But that passed. I…there hasn’t been anyone for a while.” Then, softly, “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been on a sex bender for a while. I had a nice girlfriend all through high school. My dorm mate opened my horizons and I’ve been kind of a slut. I’m out, never with a big reveal, but people just know.” He realized, given Laurent’s story, that might sound bad. Shit. Damn his loose mouth and morals. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“Dude, I don’t know what kind of deal this could be.”

He had a point. “Where are you going from here?”

“I’m thinking it’s time to get a vehicle and make a home. I have enough saved to get a van and convert it into a camper. I want to spend the fall working on that. Which means going home for a while.”

“Where’s home?”

“Black Earth.”

Damen didn’t want to jump on that too fast. He told himself to calm the fuck down. “Black Earth, outside of Madison?” His voice went up in shock. So much for calming down.

“Yeah.”

“I go to UW-Madison.”

“I saw the U-W mug in your cupboard. I figured.”

Damen sprang up into a sitting position, unable to keep cool. “You figured. Damn, you play it cagey. You could have said something!”

Laurent’s face transformed from his serious beauty to an adorable playfulness.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Laurent sort of helplessly fell back, laughing full out. “That was such a thirsty reaction.”

“Yeah, well these three days of foreplay have me thirsty,” Damen said a little irritably, somewhat embarrassed.

Laurent turned to him with a tender, searching expression. “It’s not like I’m unaffected, Damen.”

Enough of waiting for Laurent to make the first move. He was going in.

He slid along Laurent’s side, reached out to stroke his jaw and then trailed his fingers down Laurent’s strong neck. When Laurent’s mouth opened ever so slightly and his throat quivered in response, he leaned down. Laurent surged up to meet him and that first kiss was a suspended moment of softness and breath.

Then, Laurent’s hands were in his hair, and he was being pulled over the top of him, while the kiss became so much more. Turning into an old school make out frenzy all across the raft. Until they too enthusiastically took it to the edge and Laurent was rolling off. Damen stopped them from going over by leveraging his body against the momentum. As he caught Laurent to pull him back, Laurent gripped his shoulders and hissed, “Fuck, you’re strong.” He relaxed into Damen’s hold and as they teetered on going in, there was a moment of unabashed longing in Laurent’s eyes. Before he could decipher it, Damen heaved them back to safety.

When they were securely on the raft, Damen oriented himself before looking over to say, “How about we take this back to the house? This is kind of romantic. Lake, full moon. But also splinters, and near miss of plunging into hundreds of feet of black water.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Damen didn’t want to assume. “Or we could just stay here and listen for the loons.”

Laurent checked his face. “Yeah, we have time.” Hearing Laurent say that, realizing it was true, Damen knew he could wait, wanted to. That look he had seen in Laurent’s face became clear to him. It was wanting this to be that more Laurent had been denied or denied himself.

Then a thought popped up, and with it a suspicion.

“How long have you known we were going to live close to each other this fall?”

Laurent said, “Well, I noticed your U-W t-shirt that first day at the carnival.”

Damen gave him a look of disbelief. “You are one deep and mysterious human, Laurent.” He had thought he was the one leading this thing between them and all along it had been Laurent. Cautious, sweet and conniving Laurent.

Damen said, “You know, my Mom texted me and they want come up for the weekend. I’d really like for you to meet each other. I know they would like you.”

“And your Mom could show me her slide skills.”

He thought of his Mom singing with Laurent while he and his Dad cooked. How his Mom would draw Laurent out in that uncanny way she had. How she would Mom him and Laurent would eat it up. Laurent talking philosophy with his Buddhist Dad. Of seeing it all unfold, knowing there were months before them. Summer burning into the fiery beauty of a Wisconsin autumn.

The cry of a loon came across the lake, mournful and eerie. Then another in answer.

“They call to each other for reassurance,” Laurent said gently, and reached for Damen’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the beta on this Europaskiss. And for sharing our ridiculous Lamen week prompts that actually turned into this.


End file.
